


The Hunter and the Van

by NikkiNoir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Original Character non rom, Supernatural - Freeform, shameless self insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:51:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiNoir/pseuds/NikkiNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maura had been hunting since she was seventeen. Her specialty is werewolves, but after picking up the trail of a demon, who was killing people at bars in major cities up the east coast, she gets invested. Initially she is out to kill the demon, at least until she runs into Sam Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunter and the Van

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I know most of you hate original characters and self inserts, but humor me. There's no romance between my OC and the Winchesters/Castiel/Crowley. This is just a selfish, shameless self insert that I had a dream about, framed like an episode of Supernatural. I'm not concerned about anyone liking it, because this was totally written for ME. 
> 
> If you decide to read, enjoy! :)

It was dark. A balmy, summer breeze, smelling of the sea, drifted in through the open window; the waves hitting the beach were a distant lullaby. It was calm, almost unnervingly so. Something wasn’t right.

Everything happened so fast. A loud crash, screaming and a single gunshot piercing the tranquility of the night. Then there was the blood. So much blood, seeping from three bodies, laying motionless beneath a silhouetted figure who slowly turned-

Maura woke with a jolt, her heart racing as she looked around, her breathing erratic until she realized she was still safe in her van. Exhaling, relief filling her, she relaxed a little, leaning back into the beanbag chair she’d dozed off in. It was all just a dream. A really, really bad dream. 

After a cat-like stretch/yawn combo, Maura leaned over and flipped on her hardly legal police scanner. After one of those recurring dreams, it was fruitless to try sleeping. It was still early, so she figured she may as well work. 

The scanner was quiet, or least quiet in the sense that nothing relating to Maura’s current case was being reported. It was frustrating. She’d been tracking, what she assumed was a demon, up the east coast for over two weeks and all signs pointed to Boston. Where was this son of a bitch? He had to be here.

Maura had been following a series of bar killings and all of the stories were similar. This demon always got into brawls with people who crossed him- none of the victims survived and the killer’s description always included black eyes. It had to be a demon and she had every intention of getting rid of it. 

Over an hour had passed and the only reports coming through on the scanner were of a rowdy college party and an illegally parked Range Rover in the theater district. Bored, Maura felt herself yawning. Since nothing was happening, she thought it was safe to rest her eyes for a few minutes. Just as she closed her eyes, a report of a vicious bar fight as some hotel bar came through. Maura perked up and listening to the address, realizing she was only a block away.

“Gotcha, you evil bastard,” Maura grinned, pulling out a neatly organized box of files. She thumbed through it, pulling out a blue folder, toward the middle, “hm...press or FBI,” she pondered out loud, going for her fake FBI badge for Agent Ringwald. 

Since her van, an ostentatious blue and white 1968 Volkswagen Bus, wasn’t exactly textbook FBI, Maura grabbed her jacket and headed toward the hotel on foot. One the way, she saw and ambulance leaving the scene. By the time she got to the hotel, two officers were leaving and a small crowd of drunk people were filtering back inside. 

Maura overheard a man say something about a guy going batshit on another guy, who was twice his size, and took him down like it was nothing. Feeling confident this was the same demon she’d been tracking, she took a seat at one of the stools lining the bar, motioning for the bartender.

“What can I get you, miss?” the middle-aged man asked, offering a tired smiled. He looked shaken. 

“Actually,” Maura flashed her badge, “I’m Agent Ringwald. I’m here investigating bar murders that have been happening up the east coast. Could you tell me what just happened here?”

“The feds are here? That was fast,” the man raised an eyebrow, “did you say you’re name was Ringwald? Like that ginger from the eighties?”

“Sir, could you answer the question? I have no problem arresting you for withholding information,” Maura said, in her most agent-y voice. She was getting a little too good at pretending to be an authority figure.

“That won’t be necessary, agent,” the bartender said quickly, “all I know if this one guy was singing some crappy rock song, because Tuesdays are karaoke night, and one of our regulars, Barry, who works construction, started heckling him,” he poured himself a shot and downed it, “so the guy gets off stage, mid-song, walks right up to Barry and punches him across the room.”

“Across the room?” Maura asked, positive this was her demon.

“Across the room,” the man furrowed his brow, “Barry’s a big guy and that other guy sent him flying a good ten feet. I’ve never seen anything like it. He was freakin’ merciless. If I hadn’t called hotel security, I think he would have killed Barry no problem.”

“Wait, the victim isn’t dead?” Maura was surprised at the slip up, “can you tell me more about the attacker?”  
“Well,” the man avoided eye contact, “that’s where it gets weird. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” Maura leaned in, “I bet I’ve seen weirder.” 

The bartender met her eyes, “he disappeared...one minute he was there, glaring at me with those creepy black eyes, and then he was gone. Never seen anything like it.” 

“Is there anything else?” Maura was eager to get back to her van and come up with a game plan. 

“That’s all I saw, I swear,” the man poured another shot, “the cops would know more than I do.”

Maura nodded and got up, “if you see karaoke guy again, give me a call,” she slid her card over, “I’ll be in touch,” without another word, she strolled out of the hotel, her adrenaline rushing. 

The victim was alive and if this demon was killing people, there’s no way he’d leave this one alive. After weeks of tracking, she finally him by the balls. Now the fun could start. 

***  
After a couple hours of restless sleep, Maura changed into the business suit, a black skirt-coat combo with a lacy blouse, which she kept for situations where she had to deal with actual authority figures. She had to dress the part, since she didn’t exactly look like an agent. If anything, she looked like some kind of bohemian artist. Her hair was short and black, the sides were shaved and the hair she did has was usually spiked into a faux hawk. She also made sure her makeup was perfect, with her signature blood red lipstick. But, the most distinct trait was her style- which she referred to as ‘sorta hipster but not as insufferable.’ It involved a lot of skull print, plaid, skinny jeans and graphic t-shirts of her favorite things. 

Maura glanced in her mirror to fix her hair before grabbing her badge, a flask of Holy Water and her cellphone. She decided to leave her van behind again, since she needed to be inconspicuous, and walked to the police department. 

It was always intimidating to go into a city police station, versus a small town one. Maura had to collect herself for a moment before strolling inside. She made a beeline to the reception desk and smiled confidently at the dispatcher, who was on the phone.  
The woman hung up the phone, “can I help you, ma’am?” she asked, sounding bored.

“I’m Agent Ringwald,” Maura flashed her badge, “I came to see if I could get some details about a dispute that happened at a hotel bar last night.”

“Let me get Officer Gentry. He was one of the responders,” the woman got up and disappeared into an office for a moment before returning with a young-looking officer, who let Maura behind the desk.

“Agent Ringwald?” Officer Gentry offered his hand, “I’m Joe Gentry. I was one of the responding officers last night. What can I do for you?”

Maura shook his hand firmly, “I’m looking into all those murders at bars up the east coast,” she said, following Joe into his office, “they’re all similar to what happened last night...except, I was told this victim is still alive.”

Joe nodded, “that’s right,” he fished out a paper and handed it to Maura, “here’s the report I wrote up. The attacker got away and the vic, Barry Johnston, is at Mass General with a possible concussion.”

Maura skimmed over the report, “have there been any sightings of the attacker since last night?”

“Not that I know of. He’s probably hiding out somewhere. The way the witnesses describe everything, I’d say we have ourselves a PCP enthusiast,” Joe chuckled darkly, “those are always fun.”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” Maura pulled out one of her business cards and handed it to Joe, “I’m going to go question the victim, but if anything comes up, give me a call.”

“Will do, agent,” Joe walked Maura out to the lobby, just as a tall man, with longish brown hair walked in, wearing a suit.

The long-haired man flashed an FBI badge, “Agent Mays, FBI. I’m here about an attack at a hotel last night.”

Maura panicked for a split second, “Agent?” she held out her hand for his badge, “May I?” The man handed his badge over, stone faced, as Maura looked at it. It was good, but definitely a fake. She realized she mustn’t be the only hunter tracking the demon.

“Is...there a problem?” Joe asked, looking from Maura to the other agent.

“Nope, I guess my supervisor forgot to tell me I was getting the back-up I requested,” Maura lied, handing the badge back, “I’ll fill you in on everything on the way out, partner,” she smirked at Agent Mays before shaking Joe’s hand, “we’ll be in touch,” she looked back to the fake agent, “shall we?”

“After you,” the man held the door open and they both left.

Outside, Maura rounded on the man, who was about a foot taller than she was, “okay, who the hell are you?”

“I’m Agent M-”

“Wrong,” Maura leaned in, lowering her voice, “I know a hunter when I see one, so you’d better start talking.”

“You’re a hunter?” the man’s eyebrows shot up, “Really?”

“And so are you, so, name or I’ll make a scene,” Maura said, her tone dangerous. She didn’t trust other hunters; especially one’s hesitant to share their names.

“Wait, calm down,” the man held his hands up in defeat, “My name is Sam Winchester.”

Maura took a step back, “Sam Winchester?” she knew about the Winchesters. Her older sister, Molly, mentioned them in a crash course to monster hunting when Maura first got into the business, “The Sam Winchester?” 

“I guess?” Sam frowned, “Are people still talking?”

“I wouldn’t know. I avoid hunters, but, I’ve heard all about you Winchesters,” Maura folded her arms, “my sister told me not to trust you.”

“You shouldn’t trust anyone, lady,” Sam said gruffly, not breaking eye contact.

“I agree,” Maura narrowed her eyes, “I’m Maura,” she offered her hand, not sensing any immediate threat from Sam.

Sam shook her hand, “so...are we cool?”

Maura nodded, “for now,” she started walking back toward the parking garage where her van was, but stopped, “you coming? I’m not talking case stuff out in the open.”

***  
“It’s basically like all the other bar fights,” Maura handed Sam a bottle of water, before sitting on her beanbag chair, “except this vic survived,” she kicked off her heels, “and if this vic survived, I don’t think out demon is done here,” she grinned at Sam, “but that’s good. Now we can come up with a plan to kill it.”

“We?” Sam shook his head, “You can’t get involved with this, Maura. Let me handle this.” 

Maura stared at Sam in disbelief, “you’re kidding, right?”

“Demons are dangerous. I’ve-”

“I’ve been tracking this black-eyed fuck for weeks!” Maura said petulantly, “There’s no way you’re jacking this case. You’ll have to kill me first,” she wasn’t going to give in, “I swear, if you steal this case, I will track you, I will find you and I will crash your exorcism. And furthermore-”

“The demon you’re tracking is my brother, Dean,” Sam yelled, visibly irritated, making Maura flinch, “I’m not trying to kill him. I’m trying to help him,” he sighed, frustrated.

Maura was taken aback by the sudden outburst, but recovered quickly, “your brother is a demon?” she asked sheepishly, almost afraid that Sam would yell at her again.

“It’s a long story,” Sam combed his fingers through his hair, “I know it might sound insane to want to help a demon...but that’s why it’s my fight. It’s way out of your league.”

“You don’t know me,” Maura scowled at Sam, “how dare you judge my abilities.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, staring at Maura, who was staring right back. He was clearly at a loss for words, and Maura knew she was right. He had no grounds to judge her. 

Maura wasn’t going to back down. Even if killing the demon wasn’t an option, she was going to see this through to the end, “so, what’s the plan to save Dean?” she asked, after a few tense minutes.

***  
Maura reluctantly let Sam leave to make a few calls, but only after making sure the number he gave her was real. Sam told her to meet him at some pub later that night, where they could discuss the plan. She still didn’t trust Sam, but she was good at reading people; Sam truly did want to save Dean and she respected that. 

After Sam left, Maura decided to change into some casual clothes, and splurge on a motel room for the night. A steaming, hot shower sounded spectacular after three days in her van. She found a lead on the demon; it called for a little pampering, even if it was in a moldy motel room. 

Maura wasn’t a fan of city driving to begin with, but add in the fact that she was unfamiliar with Boston, she gave up almost instantly, settling on the first hotel she found. The valet in front of the building tapped on her window as she pulled up in front of a rather large, brick building. She rolled down her window.

“I’ll park this for you, ma’am,” the snooty-looking valet said, opening the door for her.

“I don’t think so,” Maura closed the door, “no one drives the van, except me,” she might have been a little overprotective of her van, but it was a bond only a van owner could understand, “you can, however, hop in and show me where to park,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a five, handing it to the valet.

Once the van was safely parked and locked up, Maura pulled her rolling suitcase through the parking garage and into the hotel. This was place was way out of her league- there was a damn chandelier in the lobby. Sighing, she pulled out one of her many platinum cards and headed to the front desk.

“Can I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked, raising a perfectly coiffed eyebrow at Maura.

“Hi there,” Maura said pleasantly, putting her credit card on the counter, “I need a room for the night.”

“Let me check to see what we have, ma’am,” the woman said, tapping away at the computer, “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any standard rooms available. Suites start at five hundred, plus tax, per night.”

Maura inhaled slowly, irritated at the number of times she’d been called ‘ma’am’ in the past twenty four hours. Without missing a beat, she pulled out her FBI badge and flashed it at the desk clerk, “ma’am, the cost of the room isn’t an issue.”

“Oh, agent, my apologies,” the clerk straightened up, looking borderline mortified, “usually, we reserve deluxe suites for government officials-”

“I’ll take it, at a discount, since I’m offended that you assumed I couldn’t afford to stay at this establishment because of how I look,” Maura said in the most official tone she could manage, “this is, if you’d like to remain open.”

The woman was visibly flustered, “one moment, please,” she picked up the phone, “Amy, could you come out here for a sec?” she asked quietly, before hanging up, “my supervisor will be happy to help you,” she waved over a short, stout woman with alarming red hair.

“What seems to be the problem?” the woman Maura assumed was Amy, asked.

“Your front desk clerks need a crash course on courtesy and guest treatment,” Maura frowned, flashing her FBI badge again, “according to her, I’m too poor to afford a suite at this hotel.”

The clerk’s eyes widened, “I never-”

“Margaret,” Amy interrupted, “did you try to turn a guest away?”

“I only got respect after she knew I was a government official,” Maura worked at a hotel before she got into hunting, and one thing she learned was how to get a discounted hotel room, “my fellow agents would be appalled to hear about this. Most of which, like to stay here when they’re in town.”

“It just so happens, our deluxe King suite had a cancellation and is available tonight,” Amy was visibly on edge, “and it’s our policy to give one night free to government officials,” she put a key card on the counter, “I just need your signature.”

After signing the paperwork, as Agent Mindy Ringwald, Maura got into the elevator, trying not to smile because of surveillance. She could celebrate the free room with a mini bar and snack bar, both complimentary, when she got to her room. The elevator ride seemed to be lasting an eternity and Maura practically dove out when it got to her floor. Her room was at the end of the hall and she couldn’t unlock the door fast enough.

“Holy shit,” Maura shut the door, looking around, “I feel like a movie star,” she couldn’t help laughing, as she got a running start, jumping onto the bed. It was such a treat to be in a room that didn’t reek of mildew. She never splurged like this, but it was free. And free was her favorite. 

Several nips of expensive bourbon and a Snickers bar later, Maura decided to give the triple head shower a go. She would have been thrilled with one working shower head, but three was truly life-changing. It was extravagant- even the toiletries smelled fancy. Everything about this room was over-the-top and she had every intention of taking advantage of the free-ness of it all. 

***  
Around eight, Maura hailed a taxi and went to pub where Sam said he’d be waiting. To her surprise, he was outside, like he said, “well, damn. Shame on me for thinking you wouldn’t show,” she said, after paying the driver, “I’m impressed.”

Sam shrugged, holding the pub door open for her, “honestly, I almost didn’t come.” 

Maura slid into a vacant booth, “what changed your mind?”

“I guess it’s always good to have back-up, just in case things go south,” Sam sat down, “and you were pretty adamant about helping.”

“I’m invested now. I need to see this through to the end,” Maura pulled out a small notebook and pen from her purse, “and speaking of which, do we have a plan?”

“I think we actually may need more back-up,” Sam said cryptically, “this isn’t just any demon we’re dealing with.”

“You’re biased,” Maura rolled her eyes,” he’s your brother.”

“That’s not what I mean. You ever hear of the Mark of Cain?” Sam asked, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

“You mean like Cain and Abel?” Maura frowned, “I thought that was all bullshit.”

Sam chuckled darkly, “I wish.”

“Well, consider me intrigued,” Maura’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, “if we’re dealing with Cain, I agree about needing more back-up,” she was still cautious about believing Sam, but, if he was lying, he was doing a fantastic job, “call your back-up then.” 

“We can’t call him here,” Sam slid out of the booth and stood up, “I rented a room upstairs, I can call him up there.”

“There is no way I’m going upstairs, alone, with you,” Maura stuffed the pen and notepad back into her purse, “I’m not stupid.”

“Look, you can either trust me when I say that I can’t call this guy with a cellphone and come with me, or leave this case to me,” Sam looked frustrated, “I get the whole not trusting me thing, but I haven’t done anything to make you distrust me.”

Maura wanted to argue, but Sam was right. He had plenty of opportunities to screw her over, and he didn’t, “fine, but I’m packing heat and I’m not scared of a Winchester,” she said, finally smirking at Sam before following him up to his room. 

The room was small and dingy, like rooms Maura was accustomed to. She almost found the smell of mildew and stale perfume welcoming as she shut the door, “so,” Maura crossed the room and sat on the end of one of the beds, “who is this mysterious guy we need to wrangle us up a demon?”

“His name is Castiel,” Sam looked at his phone, frustration still evident on his face, “he must be out of service reception so I’ll have to pray.”

Maura raised an eyebrow, “pray?” she asked, feeling quizzical about where this was headed.

“Yeah, Cas is an angel,” Sam said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re kidding, right?” Maura scowled at Sam. He was clearly making fun of her, “Angels? How stupid do you think I am?” she snapped, standing up, “Is this because I’m a chick?”

Sam looked panicked for a split second, holding his hands up in defense, “what? No! Really, Cas is an angel-”

“Stop lying!” Maura yelled, clenching her fists, on the verge of walking out. Was this case really worth being made fun of?

“I’m n-”

“You know what? Pray for your angel. If he actually shows, you have my full trust,” Maura cut Sam off, her cheeks burning with anger, “and if he doesn’t, you’d better get to Dean before I do,” she added in a dangerous undertone. 

Sam ignored her and closed his eyes, “Castiel, it’s Sam Winchester...I hope you’re tuned into angel radio, since you clearly don’t have your phone...anyway...I have a lead on Dean-”

“You found Dean?” an unfamiliar voice made Maura jump and turn around.

“How the-”

“Maura, this is Cas,” Sam said, his voice almost smug as he interrupted.

“The angel,” Maura was blown away, but still skeptical, “if you’re an angel, prove it.”

The alleged angel cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowed, “I’m sorry about your family,” was all he said, with such genuine sympathy, that Maura was rendered momentarily speechless.

After an uncomfortable silence, Sam cleared his throat, “so...can we move on?”

Maura turned back to Sam, still not sure how this Cas person knew about her family. Maybe he was an angel, or, maybe this was an elaborate plan, “let’s talk business.”

“Where’s Dean?” Cas asked, glancing around the room, “I assume he’s alive.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Sam hesitated for a moment, looking troubled, “he’s a demon,” he said quietly, as if he was afraid to say it out loud. 

Maura noticed that Cas took the news stone-faced, but definitely saw pain in his eyes. It was almost unbearable to see such quiet devastation. She wondered what kind of relationship Dean had with Cas; one thing she was sure certain of- Cas loved Dean. There was no hiding that, even behind his seemingly emotionless facade. 

“Just as I had feared,” Cas frowned, “this is undoubtedly the Mark of Cain.”

“We think Dean is going to be going after this guy who heckled him while he was singing karaoke,” Maura chimed in, finally deciding to cautiously trust Sam and Cas.

“Dean sang karaoke?” Cas’ expression lightened; Maura swore she saw a small smile cross his lips.

“I think we should be more concerned that the vic is in trouble,” Sam folded his arms, “we need to find him before Dean does.”

“What’s the plan?” Maura sat back down, “I think we should split up. One of us could keep an eye on the vic...maybe have one of us on police scanner duty?”

“I’ll check every bar in the city for Dean,” Cas disappeared without another word.

“He really is an angel, isn’t he?” Maura mused, “What a time to be alive.”

“You get used to him popping in and out,” Sam half-smiled, flipping on his police scanner, “don’t take this the wrong way, but, I think we’d have a better shot catching Dean if you monitor the scanner.”

Maura didn’t want to give in so easily, but Sam hadn’t been wrong yet. Staying here was logical, “only because you were right about angels,” she smiled, “good luck. Call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” Sam squeezed her shoulder amicably, before leaving.

Mildly annoyed that she wasn’t out helping, Maura walked over to the table where the police scanner was and sat down. It was, most likely, going to be a long, boring night. 

***  
Barely fifteen minutes after Sam had left, Cas appeared, holding a large paper bag, startling Maura. He put it down and pulled out two beers, “jeez, could you give me a head’s up before you zap in here,” Maura said, exasperated.

“My apologies,” Cas handed her a beer, as if it were some kind of peace offering.

“No worries,” Maura took the beer, “I’m just adjusting to the fact that angels are a thing,” she took a long sip, “it’s a lot to take in.”

Cas nodded, sitting down in the other chair, “I understand.”

“So...I thought you were out on patrol,” Maura said conversationally, feeling oddly comfortable with Cas, “not that I’m complaining about the beer.”

“If Dean is in the city, he isn’t at any of the bars,” Cas took a small sip of his own beer, “I know he was here, somewhere in the city, recently because I feel his energy.” 

Maura nodded, the two of them falling into an amicable silence, the babble of the police scanner a comforting backdrop. They sipped their beers contently, Maura growing more curious about Cas with each sip. She’d never met an angel and was fascinated. Finally, after the beer was gone, she spoke, “how did you know about my family?” she asked, “I never tell anyone about them.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, “I’m an angel of the Lord. I know when a soul has dealt with tragedy, even if I don’t know all the details of said tragedy.”

“I don’t know if that’s comforting or creepy,” Maura chuckled uncomfortably. 

“What happened to them?” Cas asked, looking interested.

Maura was quiet for a moment, avoiding eye contact. She never brought up her family. It was her weakness and she refused to let it control her. But, somehow, she felt at ease with Cas, “back when I was seventeen, we were having trouble with my younger brother, Sean. He got mugged, and after it happened, once a month he’d just lose his shit...he’d stay out all night, sleep all day...we were worried,” Maura said quietly, sighing.  
“Werewolf,” Cas said bluntly, the word making Maura cringe. 

“Yeah,” Maura cleared her throat, feeling a lump rising, “one night my parents tried to lock him in the house so he couldn’t sneak out...we didn’t realize what he was,” she closed her eyes, remember the night in vivid detail, “I was asleep when it happened...all I heard were my parents’ screams and a gunshot.” 

Cas looked confused, “a gunshot?”

“When I got to my parents’ room, I saw the bodies,” Maura cleared her throat again, trying to ignored the tears threatening to well up in her eyes, “and, my older sister, whom I hadn’t seen in years, standing over my parents and brother,” Cas was staring at her, seeming to be at a loss for words, so she continued, “Molly, my sister, couldn’t console me. I was in shock. From my point of view, she’s just murdered my entire family and I was a little distraught.” 

“What happened?” Cas prodded.

“Molly finally calmed me down enough to explain everything,” Maura sighed, “how Sean was a werewolf and monsters were real. It was overwhelming,” she picked at the label on her beer bottle, “she told me I could go with her...and I didn’t really have another option. She taught me everything I know. I guess getting into hunting after something like that is natural. We were a good team.”

“When did you lose your sister?” Cas asked bluntly, “I assume your story doesn’t end there.”

“Fuck, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Maura frowned, still not used to having a conversation with an angel, who was apparently the epitome of not sugar coating anything.

“I was merely curious, I meant no offense,” Cas said apologetically. 

“None taken. It’s fine,” Maura glanced at Cas, “I’m just not over my sister’s death,” she helped herself to another beer, “it was a djinn. I was too late to save her. She died because I failed,” they fell into another, slightly more awkward, silence, but, before it got too uncomfortable, Maura spoke again, “so what’s the deal with you and Dean? And don’t you dare say that you’re business associates.” 

Cas was visibly caught off guard with the question, but he recovered quickly, “I pulled Dean out of Hell,” he said, looking nostalgic, “we share a profound...or, at least we did when he was human.”

Maura couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of Cas and Dean’s relationship, but she understood what it was like to have a loved one go dark side, “you pulled him out of Hell? And now he’s a,” Maura stopped herself from saying it, realizing how incredibly painful it must be for Cas to know that the soul he saved from Hell, was now a demon, “I’m sorry. We’ll find a way to help Dean.” 

Cas nodded wordlessly, letting another silence take over. Maura was afraid to ask anything else. If Cas was an angel, there was no way she wanted to piss him off. They were supposed to be Heaven’s warriors. She wasn’t going to test him.

Before things got too quiet, Maura’s phone started to ring. She answered immediately, “Sam?”

“Hey, so, the vic got released from the hospital,” Sam said, his voice hushed, “He looks like he’s going into a bar...yeah, he’s going in.”

“His first stop after a hospital visit is a bar?” Maura snorted, putting Sam on speakerphone, “I guess I don’t blame him. After getting my ass kicked, I usually want a stiff drink.” 

“Can’t argue there,” Sam chuckled, “Shit, I lost him. He went into some comedy lounge bar near the common. I’m going in,” he hung up without another word. 

“I’m going for back-up,” Cas disappeared, leaving Maura alone before the thought of demanding to go along crossed her mind.

“Surem I don’t mind sitting here, useless, with my thumb up my ass,” Maura complained, sighing irritably. Left behind again, “I’ll just, you know, stay here. Not being any kind of help.”

“Oh, love, I think you’re going to be very helpful,” a heavily accented voice came from behind Maura.

“Who the-” Maura’s question was cut short, after catching a glimpse of the man, he snapped his fingers and she blacked out.  
***  
When Maura came to, she had no idea where she was. She looked around, realizing it was a hotel room. A really, absurdly fancy one. Even the chair she was tied to looked like it cost more than her van. She tried to wriggle out of the ropes, to no avail. Her gun and knife had been taken and that was the last draw, “okay, you piece of shit, where are you?” she yelled, “I know you can hear me!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t believe you’re in any kind of position to be calling me names,” the man appeared a few feet away from her, smiling smugly, “now, are you comfortable?”

“Fuck you and your receding hairline,” Maura spat.

“That hurts my feelings,” the man snapped his fingers and Maura felt an unbearable pain in her stomach, unable to refrain from crying out in agony, “you should treat the King of Hell with a little more respect,” he waved his hand and the pain subsided, “now, darling, you’re going to help me.”

Not wanting to feel that kind of pain ever again, Maura glared at him, she felt defeated but wasn’t giving in this easy, “why would I do that?” she practically snarled at him.

“Because I assume you need all of your fingers,” the man’s calm demeanor was unnerving.

“What could a demon possibly need me to do?” Maura asked, still scowling at the demon.

“Ahem, King of Hell, actually. The name’s Crowley. I’m not just a demon,” Crowley smirked at her, “I just need a small favor. If you cooperate, you keep all of your fingers. It’s a fair trade off,” he strolled over to her and took her phone out of her coat pocket, “all you have to do is get your friend Sam to come to room 1406 at the fanciest hotel in the city,” he pressed a few buttons on the phone and held it to her ear.

It rang twice before Sam answered, “Maura? What’s up?”

“Sam, I got a lead on Dean, so I headed to the fanciest hotel in the city, room 1406,” Maura said, trying to sound nonchalant, “could you meet me here? I could use some back-up.”

“Back-up? Are you okay?” Sam asked, sounding concerned.  
“Just fine. Just typical 767 bullshit, you know how it is,” Maura said, faking a laugh, and hoping Sam understood that 767 spelled out SOS on a keypad for a phone, “will you come give me a hand? Have Cas keep an eye on the vic.”

“On my way,” Sam hung up.

“767?” Crowley asked, tossing the phone aside.

“Yeah, in the FBI a 767 is code for fugitive sighting,” Maura lied, not missing a beat, praying that Crowley believed her. Shifting in the chair, feeling the razorblade she hid in the seam of the sleeve of her jacket. She was glad she had the idea to create hidden pockets that were accessible in these type of situations, “just one of the codes you pick up in this business. I don’t even know if Sam knew what it meant. He sounded confused,” she carefully used her middle finger to slide the blade out of her sleeve.

“Nice touch,” Crowley mused, “beautifully done.”

“Now let me go,” Maura said cooly, using the razor blade to cut the rope without Crowley noticing what she was doing. She just had to keep talking, keeping him distracted, “or I’ll kill you.”

“Tell me, how are you going to do that when you’re all tied up?” Crowley asked, amused.

She felt the blade go through the rope and pulled her hand out, easily untying the rope around her other hand. Crowley took a step back and she raised her hands, “easy, dude. I think we can help each other out, but I don’t do BDSM. I promise, no tricks.”

Crowley laughed, looking intrigued, “help each other? How so?” 

Maura had no idea what she was talking about, but was a master bullshitter, so she just started talking, “Come on, Crowley. You obviously want Dean to yourself, why else would you want Sam to come here?” she folded her arms, not taking her eyes off Crowley, “I can make sure Sam doesn’t find Dean, and you won’t even have to deal with him. Just leave it to me.”

“You just expect me to trust you?” Crowley raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Hell no, you’re not stupid. You know better than to trust a hunter, and I respect that,” Maura strolled over to the mini-bar and helped herself to a beer, “but you have to look at things from my perspective,” she twisted the cap off and took a sip, “I’m not stupid either. I wouldn’t screw you over because you could literally murder me with a snap of your fingers,” she was running out of ways to bullshit, so she decided to turn to flattery, “so, there’s that.”

“Go on,” Crowley watched her drink the beer.

“And solely based on the fact that you’re more powerful than me, is, uh, proof that I wouldn’t lie,” Maura took another swig, trying to buy herself more time, “it would be stupid on my part to even try.”

“As you just said,” Crowley’s look of amusement was quickly turning into one of irritation.

“I just want you to make sure that you know I wouldn’t screw you over,” Maura reiterated, “I want to help.”

“Then tell me how you’re going to get rid of Moose,” Crowley snapped.

“By, um,” Maura took a long sip, trying desperately to think of something, “helping,” was all that she could think of.

“You’re stalling. You little whore,” Crowley pulled out a large knife, finally fed up, “I’m going to filet you-”

Before Crowley could act on the threat, the door was busted open and Sam fired a few salt rounds at the demon. Crowley was gone in an instant and Sam looks at Maura, “a 767?” he asked, smirking, “creative.” 

“I’m glad you’re smarter than you look,” Maura retorted, “I was worried.”

“Are you okay?” Sam put his gun away.

“Just peachy,” Maura rolled her eyes, picking her phone up off the ground, “so, what’s the plan?”

“I’m taking you back to your van. It’s safe there.”

***

“So...how the hell did you manage to get captured?” Sam asked, pulling out into traffic.

Maura shrugged, “after you called, and Cas peaced out, I started complaining...then Crowley showed up and I blacked out,” Maura played with the radio, “when I woke up, I was tied to a chair. Crowley wanted me to get you to come to the hotel, and assumed I was harmless,” she laughed, “what he didn’t realize, was that I have plenty of hidden weapons in this coat. He took my gun and knife, but I had a razor blade in the hem of my sleeve, for situations like that, and managed to get it out, cut through the rope and get loose.”

“Hidden pockets,” Sam smiled to himself, “I wish I’d thought of that for all the times I’ve been tied up.” 

“Crowley was pretty shocked,” Maura flipped through a few radio stations before settling on a classic rock one, “after I called you and got loose, I basically stalled until you bust in. I had that bastard eating out of my hand. Flattery and bullshit really goes a long way.”

“I gotta say, I’m impressed,” Sam mused, “you’re more of a bad ass than you let on. You handled the King of Hell like a champ.”

Maura shrugged off the compliment, “I saw some shit when I was a teenager. I’m too desensitized to be scared. I just want to destroy all evil.” 

“Some shit?” Sam asked, glancing at Maura, “Is that why you got into hunting?”

“Sure is,” Maura looked out the window, “I’ve been in the business for almost ten years now.”

“I’ve been in the business my whole life, I couldn’t escape it,” Sam said quietly.

“After my brother killed my mom and dad, then got killed by my sister, who was a hunter, I couldn’t escape the life,” Maura frowned, “I can’t imagine being in this my whole life...a kid hunter. Shit, that’s rough.”

“You lost almost your whole family all at once?” Sam turned the radio off, “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“Basically, my brother became a werewolf, murdered my parents and got shot by my sister, who had been tracking a werewolf, unknowing that it was my brother. She arrived too late to save my parents, but saved me and taught me everything I know,” Maura sighed, “then I fucked up and she got killed by a djinn.” 

“I’m sorry for your losses,” Sam said, visibly sympathetic, “I would explain my situation...but I don’t think there’s an abridged version. It’s too damn complicated.”

“You want to save your big brother, I get it,” Maura finally smiled, “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. You have your own shit to deal with. Sorry about that.”

Before Sam could say anything, the radio kicked back on, by itself, startling both Sam and Maura, “Dean isn’t in Boston anymore. The trail is cold,” Cas’ voice made Maura jump.

Sam looked in the rearview mirror; Cas was seated in the backseat now, “He’s gone?”

“He must know we’re on to him,” Cas said glumly. 

Sam sighed, frustrated, “we’ll figure it out, Cas.” 

“I’ll be in touch,” Cas disappeared again.

Sam pulled into the parking garage and parked next to Maura’s van, “sorry you got pulled into all this,” he said, getting out of the car, “I wish we could have finished this.”

“Me too,” Maura walked over to her van, “I also wish you could have kicked Crowley’s ass.” 

Sam laughed, “that’ll happen one day. Don’t you worry about that.”

Maura grinned at Sam, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Where will you go next?” Sam asked, sitting on the hood of his car.

“Not after Dean,” Maura said immediately, “I was tracking some werewolf activity out in Seattle...I might get myself a new gun and head west. What about you?”

Sam shrugged, “I honestly have no idea. The trend with Dean is going north, so, maybe I’ll head to New Hampshire.”

“Good luck with that. I hope you find Dean,” Maura offered a smile.

Sam returned the smile, “gank that werewolf for me.”

“If you see Crowley, douse him in Holy Water,” Maura opened the back of her van, “so, I guess this is where we part ways.”

“Looks that way,” Sam stood up and walked over to the driver’s side of his car.

“I’ll call if I pick up Dean’s trail,” Maura walked over to Sam and held out her pinkie, “now pinkie promise me that you’ll call if you ever need back-up.” 

Laughing, Sam linked his pinkie with Maura’s, “I promise.”

“Good,” Maura winked at Sam and walked back to her van. Sam got into his car and sped off, leaving Maura alone. In a way she was almost sad to see him go. He was definitely a good person to have on her side, especially in a tight spot, but, she was a loner. It was better this way.

Maura climbed into the driver seat, and started up her van. She wanted to get as far away from Boston as humanly possible. Crowley must have been pissed, and she wasn’t going to stick around. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to hunt a werewolf, but Seattle sounded like a good idea, so she decided to head west. 

It was late when Maura left Boston. She was glad to get off the highway and take the scenic route west. Several hours had passed and she was just about at the New York border. It was a little after two in the morning when her headlights hit a man walking out into the middle of the road, and stopping, “what the fuck,” she slammed on her breaks and barely stopping in time, leaving just a few inches between the man, who hadn’t moved, and the front end of her van.

Livid, Maura got out, “are you fucking insane? What the shit are you doing walking out in the middle of the goddamn road?” she yelled, throwing her hands up in anger, “If you would have made me wreck this van, you would have been a fucking dead man!”

The man nonchalantly held up a primitive-looking sword, “where is Sam?” he asked calmly.

“You can fuck off,” Maura turned and headed back to her van, stifling a scream when the man appeared in her passenger seat, “okay, just who the hell are you?” she demanded, slowly moving her hand to a pocket that contained a small handful of salt. 

The man laughed darkly, raising an eyebrow, “you’re a pretty shitty hunter if you didn’t recognize the demon you’ve been tracking,” his eyes flashed to black, “he’s literally riding shotgun. Now, drive me to Sam.” 

“You’re a fucking demon. Just poof yourself to your brother, Dean. I’m done,” Maura said, her eyes going to the blade Dean was holding. 

Dean raises the blade to Maura, “drive,” he said dangerously, his voice low. 

Maura was sick of being threatened, “chill the fuck out, I’ll drive,” she turned the van around and started heading toward New Hampshire. Dean clearly had no idea where Sam was, and since she was a couple of hours away, she had time to come up with a plan. She had to find exactly where Sam was and somehow get Dean to his location, without Dean escaping. This wouldn’t be easy. 

The first hour of driving was tense, to put it mildly. Maura would have been a lot more frightened if Dean wasn’t angrily commentating every song that wasn’t classic rock that came up on the radio. Maura thought he was going to rip the radio out of the dashboard when Jefferson Starship came on.

“What is this shit? Do people actually listen to this?” Dean groaned, “It’s all friggin’ garbage,” he shut it off and sat back, sighing irritably. 

“I, uh, have some tapes in the glove box,” Maura suggests cautiously, pointing to the compartment in front of Dean. 

Dean opened the glove compartment and pulled out a few tapes, “The Ramones...Heart….” he mumbles, absorbed, “I’m more of a Zeppelin man,” he said, examining a Beatles tape in the light of the glove box.

At the mention of Led Zeppelin, Maura got an idea, remembering her box of tapes in back, under the devil’s trap she’d painted on the ceiling of her van. It was dark, so there was no way Dean had seen it, “I have some Zep in the back, in a box next to the beanbag chair, if you want,” she said, trying to sound casual, “unless you want to listen to shitty top forty music.”

Dean got up and climbed into the back without question, “where?” he asked, tripping over something, hitting the ground.

“Oh, sorry,” Maura feigned being apologetic and turned the back lights on, chuckling to herself, “man, that was too easy,” she mused, looking in her rearview mirror at Dean.

Dean’s eyes flashed black, “motherfucker,” he snapped, “you bitch.”

“I may be a bitch, honey, but I’m the bitch in charge of the radio,” Maura said, giggling, as she reached into the side pocket of her seat and pulled out her favorite Jefferson Starship album, making sure Dean saw it, “now, you’re going to sit there quietly, or we’re listening to this for the next two hours.”

Dean made a miserable sound and yanked the beanbag chair closer, taking a seat, “son of a bitch,” he mumbled, folding his arms.

Maura pulled out her phone and dialed Sam, holding it to her ear. It rang a few times before Sam’s tired voice came through, “Maura?”

“Hey, where are you?” Maura asked, glancing at Dean in the rearview mirror again.

“Portsmouth, New Hampshire, at the motel on Main Street, why?”

“Stay put, I’m on my way,” Maura hung up, and put the phone away. 

“So what are you going to do to me?” Dean asked, still sounding irritated. Maura ignored Dean and popped in the Jefferson Starship tape, “no, please,” Dean whined, “please kill me, this is torture.”

Maura smiled to herself as Dean begged her to kill him for about fifteen minutes. She thought he’d eventually give up, but several songs later, he was still being dramatic and she’d had enough, “holy shit, stop being so dramatic,” she said pulling into a gas station, “toss me a fucking Zeppelin tape, you baby,” Dean tossed a tape to her and she popped it in, putting the other tape back in her seat pocket, “I need to fill up. If you put a scratch on this van, I’ll shove that bone sword of yours so far up your ass, you could use the tip as a toothpick,” she shut the van off.

“Get me whiskey,” Dean demanded.

Maura rolled her eyes and got out of the van, walking into the convenience store. She didn’t want to leave Dean alone with her van, because he could easily destroy it to get out, so she grabbed a cheap bottle of whiskey, as a bribe for him not to do that. After paying for the gas and whiskey, she shoved the bottle in her coat pocket and walked back to the van, which was still in tact. To her surprise, Dean hadn’t moved, so she gassed up and got back into the driver’s seat. 

“I want whiskey,” Dean said the minute Maura sat down.

“They were all out,” Maura started the van. 

Dean groaned, “what the hell, man.”

Maura turned up the Zeppelin tape, and pulled back out onto the road. Dean quieted down as Robert Plant’s distinct voice came over the speakers. A few songs passed, and Maura noticed Dean was singing softly to the music. She was starting to get curious about him, and at the end of the song, she turned down the music, her curiosity getting the best of her, “okay, what’s your deal? Why are you killing strangers at bars and running from people who want to help?” she asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Dean laughed maliciously, “why do I kill? Because I like it,” he said softly, his tone dangerous.

The response sent chills down Maura’s spine. She’s almost forgotten that Dean was a demon. He seemed harmless, singing Zeppelin, sitting on her beanbag chair, “and why does Crowley want to kill Sam?” 

“How the hell should I know?” Dean snapped, “Can you put the music on, I really don’t feel like talking to you.”

“Are you and Cas a thing? Is this an awkward post-breakup rampage?” Maura asked, ignoring Dean’s request, “What’s going on there?”

For the first time, Dean got quiet, almost hesitant to answer, “Cas needs to stay away,” he said quietly, leaving it at that, an awkward silence taking over for several minutes before Dean spoke again, “so who the hell are you?”

“I’m the hunter who trapped Dean Winchester,” Maura said smugly.

Dean laughed without humor, “and a smart ass,” he mumbled, “you don’t look like a hunter. How’d you get into the biz?”

“Monsters destroyed my family, now it’s just me. So I hunt, because I don’t really have anything to lose,” Maura said cryptically.

“Don’t spare me the gory details, I’m dying to know,” Dean practically purred. Was he getting off on her misfortune?

“That’s none of your business,” Maura snapped, done with this conversation.

“Come on, I’m fucking bored back here. I could use a gory pick-me-up,” Dean prodded.

Maura reached in her pocket and pulled out the whiskey, tossing it back to Dean, “shut up,” she hoped the whiskey would shut him up until they got to Portsmouth.

The whiskey didn’t stop Dean from questions and guesses about Maura’s backstory. It only made it worse, “was it vamps? Did they tear your family apart with their teeth and drink their blood like a martini?” he swigged from the bottle, “Or maybe it was ghouls who peeled the flesh off their bones, giving them a slow, painful death,” he laughed, “oh, there’s just so many possible situations. I bet it was werewolves-”

Finally Maura had had enough, “My brother was a werewolf, he murdered my parents and was killed by my sister, a hunter, who was later killed by a djinn because I was too fucking late to save her. Happy?” she snapped, “You’re one annoying fuck, Winchester.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, sounding almost apologetic.

“No you’re not. You’re a lying demon, you don’t possess sympathy, you piece of shit,” Maura was still angry. Maybe capturing a demon was a terrible idea, considering all the demons she kept bottled up inside. 

“Demons don’t always lie,” Dean argued, “I used to be human, I kinda get what you’re going through, even I am a demon.”

Silence crept over the van, so Maura turned up the music again, humming along to “Ramble On” as the song started. As they crossed the New Hampshire border, the lack of conversation had turned into almost an amicable silence. Maura put in a Styx tape, and Dean made a sound of approval and she couldn’t help smiling to herself. 

“You know,” Dean said after a while, “for a crafty bitch, you’re not half bad.” 

Maura rolled her eyes, “you sure know how to compliment a lady,” she said sarcastically, but couldn’t help taking a liking to Dean. Sure, he was a dickhead as a demon, but he must have been a cool guy when he wasn’t satan’s little helper. 

It was almost sunrise when Maura pulled up in front of Sam’s motel. She pulled out her phone and dialed Sam’s number. Sam’s voice was even more sleep-addled than it was earlier, “Mhm?” he mumbled, yawning.

“It’s me. Come outside,” Maura said, hanging up. She turned to look at Dean, who was visibly on edge now, “don’t look so scared, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“That’s comforting,” Dean scowled at her.

Sam walked outside a few minutes later, looking disheveled and half-asleep. He climbed into the passenger seat of the van, “what’s up?” he asked, yawning.

Maura nodded to the back of the van, “brought you a present,” she said, referring to Dean, “what’s the plan?”

“Dean?” Sam stared at his brother for a few seconds before looking at Maura, “How the-”

“He’s not staying in my van. We need a plan,” Maura interrupted.

“I’ll get the cuffs,” Sam climbed out of the van and disappeared into the hotel, returning a few minutes later with a rustic-looking set of handcuffs, “these should keep him under control.” 

“You’re not putting those on me, Sam,” Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, “no freaking way.”

“It’s either you go with Sam willingly, or I use holy water,” Maura pulled out her trusty flask, “I have no problem using it.”

Dean sighed dramatically and held out his hands, letting Sam cuff him. Maura got up and scratched part of the devil’s trap off the roof, so Sam could bring Dean inside, “I know you’re pissed off at me, but I just want to help,” Sam said desperately, locking the hotel door behind Maura, “I need my brother back.”

“Oh, he’s long gone,” Dean glared at Sam, “your brother died months ago.”

Sam flinched, “he’s in there somewhere, and I think Castiel would be interested to know that we have Dean,” he said, raising his voice.

Cas appeared almost instantly, causing Dean to step back, flashing his black eyes, almost cowering, “Dean,” he said, looking pained, staring at Dean, who looked like a cornered animal, his eyes dark. 

“Cas,” Dean said, his tone curt and guarded.

Cas turned to Sam, “the only way to save Dean is with purified blood,” he frowned, “and even that’s not a guarantee.” 

“I have some,” Sam pulled a chair over, “sit down, Dean,” he said, before pulling a duffel bag off the counter. Dean sat down, his eyes still black, not moving from Cas, “I should have enough. I stocked up when I found out Dean had gone dark side,” he pulled a small box out of the bag and handed it to Cas.

“Let’s get started,” Cas took the box and took a few steps toward Dean.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. I need to talk to Sam alone first,” Dean demanded, noticing the devil’s trap on the ceiling, “what the hell! Again?!”

Reluctantly, Maura and Cas went outside, “is the blood really going to cure Dean?” she asked sheepishly.

“I really don’t know,” Cas said, his expression unreadable, “I can only pray that Dean can be saved.”

“You love him,” Maura blurted out, unable to stop herself. She’d never seen anyone look at someone the way Cas looked at Dean. The love Cas felt for Dean was so obvious that it was almost absurd. 

Cas looked conflicted for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, “I have from the moment I saw him, tortured and broken in Hell.”

Maura touched Cas’ arm, “this will work. It has to.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Cas was interrupted by the door opening, “what happened, Sam?”

“Dean doesn’t want to be saved,” Sam said, frustration evident on his face, “he told me I should give up,” Sam threw his hands up, aggravated, “I don’t know what to do,” he looked at Cas, “you deal with him. You can talk some sense into him. Hell, beat it into him if you have to.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Cas left Maura and Sam alone.

“He’ll come to his senses,” Maura said, trying to sound optimistic, “I think your brother is still in there...I didn’t know him...but Dean isn’t like other demon’s I’ve met. There’s still a part of him that’s human.”

“I don’t think Dean believes that,” Sam frowned, “and if he doesn’t believe he can be saved...maybe he can’t be…”

“You can’t think like that,” Maura said sternly, “it’s hard, but good vibes go a long way.”

The door opened again, and Cas was stone-faced, “he’s beyond reason. I’ve sedated him, so you can go ahead with the blood.”

Sam walked back inside, followed by Cas and Maura. Dean was out cold, slumped in the chair, “you knocked him out?” Sam half-laughed, grabbing the box of injections, immediately emptying the first vial into Dean’s arm. 

“I did what needed to be done,” Cas watched Sam continue with the injections, while Dean remained unconscious.  
After Sam administered the final injection, he sat down on one of the beds, “that’s that.”

“We’ll know if it worked, when Dean wakes up,” Cas said quietly, still standing, his eyes not leaving Dean. 

The atmosphere was, at best, unnerving while they waited for Dean to come to. Cas stood, unmoving, inside the devil’s trap with Dean, while Sam had taken to pacing the room, before flopping down on his bed. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Maura sat indian style on the other bed, watching Sam and Cas. She hadn’t slept yet and it was difficult to stay awake, but she was invested and had to know if the injections worked. 

Two hours had passed when Dean finally stirred. Everyone in the room froze and seemed to inhale at the same time. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at Sam sleeping, then to Cas, looking disoriented, “Cas?” there was something different about his tone. 

Cas finally smiled, practically lunging at Dean, wrapping his arms around him, “Dean, it’s you,” he said, jubilant. Dean groaned in pain and Cas let him go, “I’m sorry I knocked you unconscious...let me heal you,” he gently touched Dean’s forehead, “better?”

Maura tossed a pillow at Sam, who sat up, startled. He glared at Maura, who pointed at Dean, “Dean!” he got up and took the handcuffs off of Dean, “It actually worked...I can’t believe it.”

Dean pulled Sam into a hug, “hey Sammy,” he said, grinning. 

Maura was happy she helped. She reunited brothers and two men who clearly loved one another. Hunting was a hard job, but it was rewarding too. Seeing happy reunions like this made it all worth it. Another job, complete. In the midst of Sam, Dean and Cas hugging and chatting, Maura decided to sneak out. Seattle was a few days drive, and she wanted to get going, unnoticed. As she reached the door, she heard her name.

Dean was standing a few paces away, “Maura, is it?” he smiled, “Thanks for what you did back there.” 

“Really, it’s nothing,” Maura felt herself blushing, “if you wouldn’t have walked out in the road, none of this would have happened.” 

“I owe you a drink,” Dean grabbed her shoulder, “you’re not leaving until we all have a drink.”

“I can’t. I have a long drive ahead of me, and I’m not one to booze cruise,” Maura chuckled, “I have to go hunt a werewolf in Seattle...and Seattle is a long fucking drive.”

Without warning, Dean pulled her into a hug, “thank you. I mean it,” he whispered, letting her go. 

“Anytime, Winchester,” Maura winked at Dean, “I’m out. You three stay out of trouble...and if you get into trouble, give me a call,” she waved at Sam and Cas, who both said their goodbyes. After a playful punch to Dean’s arm, she left. 

Without looking back, Maura pulled out onto the road, driving west. Several minutes passed, when Cas appeared in the passenger seat, surprising her, “jeez, Cas, don’t do that,” she complained.

“I just wanted to thank you again. There are no words to express my gratitude for what you did,” Cas said, in the most grateful tone Maura had ever heard. 

“It was no big deal,” Maura shrugs, “helping Dean was the right thing to do.”

Cas leans over and touched her arm, “I think you should know that your family is in heaven together, safe and at peace.”

Before Maura could respond, Cas was gone. She was overcome with emotion and had to pull over. It had been an intense day. Not only did she help cure a demon, but now she knew her family was together in heaven. She may have been alone, but now she had closure. Finally, she was ready to move on.

Exhaling, Maura smiled. She was ready for her next adventure that involved a werewolf in Seattle, “time to go make a difference,” she said to herself, pulling back out onto the highway and driving off down the road.


End file.
